Amazing
by Phoenix.Writing
Summary: Short and sweet.  After seven long years, the final Leaving Feast for Draco and those in his year has arrived.  It’s time to award the House Cup, and the outcome is obvious, right?
1. The House Cup

**Author's Note**: Not _HBP_ compliant. Reviews and con-crit welcome.

**Anti-Litigation Charm**: JKR owns it all; I play for my non-profit amusement.

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_**Amazing**_

by Silver Birch

_Chapter One: The House Cup_

"For his courage and strength of character, I award Harry Potter two hundred and fifty points."

Draco rolled his eyes as a mutter went up around the Slytherin table. The setting was the Great Hall, and they had heard this speech from the headmaster, or a speech very similar to it, too many years in a row. Although the reaction was not quite as vicious as it had been in the past, he and his dormmates could hardly be expected to react with joy to their rival's victory. Big bloody surprise that Gryffindor won the House Cup by a landslide.

A few minutes earlier, Draco had even seen the nepotism openly at work: he had caught sight of the Boy Who Conquered gesticulating wildly, angrily, and passionately with the headmaster. They were standing in an alcove off the Great Hall which had previously housed a particularly ugly statue of a goblin, destroyed, if Draco remembered correctly, when some Peeves-inspired plot had gone particularly awry. The blond Slytherin could not hear what they were arguing about, and before he could seriously consider casting an eavesdropping charm (a daft contemplation given that it would have been against what were probably the two most powerful wizards in the world), the argument had broken off. The two had moved to enter the Great Hall, causing Draco to stroll purposefully on his way so that it didn't look as though he had even noticed them. As a result, however, he didn't have the opportunity to determine from body language who had won.

As the applause from the other three tables began, the white-bearded wizard held up his hands to indicate that he hadn't finished, and the students obediently quieted again.

"The eldest of you may recall that six years ago I awarded points to a student who had the courage to stand up to his friends." Draco was not the only one to look at Longbottom – the nearest Gryffindors were slapping him on the back, and Draco narrowly contented himself with a sour expression. Sure, give Gryffindor _more_ points. The headmaster continued, seemingly oblivious to both the Gryffindor's joy and the Slytherin's discontent: "This year it has been brought to my attention that a group of students valiantly stood up for what they had been taught _not_ to believe in. Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy, for showing your ability to change and grow, for displaying the utmost courage, and for the strength of your new-found convictions, demonstrated by fighting where it was necessary even against your friends and families, I award each of you fifty points. Slytherin wins the House Cup!"

The silence that greeted this announcement was deafening. Even the Slytherins were stunned by this turn of events. Draco barely restrained his own facial muscles when he saw the stupid-looking, slack-jawed expressions on his fellow students. Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort and _Slytherin_ had won the House Cup? No wonder Potter had been exchanging words with the headmaster. The only surprise was that the messy-haired Gryffindor hadn't won.

The stifling silence was broken by the sound of a solitary pair of hands clapping. Looking up at the noise, Draco was shocked anew. There was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived Twice, standing and facing the Slytherins, clapping for all he was worth and … beaming at them, grinning ear to ear with the kind of incandescence that was normally reserved for his fellow Gryffindorks.

A moment later, Granger rose by his side and joined in his applause; this seemed to spur the High Table into action and, recovering from their own shock, the professors took part in the growing ovation. Slowly and surely, the rest of the student body began to clap as well, many of them following Potter's example and rising to their feet.

To say the Slytherins were flabbergasted would be a gross understatement. Thunderous applause and even the occasional cat call and cheer could be heard in the Hall, and it was all because they, Slytherin, had won the House Cup.

For seven long years, Draco had watched the other three houses gang up on the dungeon-dwellers. He and his house-mates had fought what had seemed like a hopelessly slow, losing battle to show the rest of the world the worth of Slytherin House while the Dark Lord, egomaniacal prat that he was, was busy giving them all a bad name.

Yes, Draco and his friends had chosen to side with Potter, but they were _Slytherins_, for Merlin's sake – they had all been well aware that the Ministry and the public would be only too happy to Obliviate the lot of them, consign them to Azkaban with their parents, and pretend it had never happened. In fact, it would be very handy for the Ministry coffers if just that situation were to arise.

Yet here was all this applause. Here was Hogwarts, united, even if momentarily, in support of Slytherin House. Here, now, their choice was recognized and applauded. And it had all started with one pair of hands.

Draco Malfoy was left with a stunning and thoroughly confusing notion: Harry Potter had not been arguing Dumbledore _out_ of Slytherin's win, but into it.


	2. Questions

**Author's Note**: Not _HBP_ compliant. Reviews and con-crit welcome.

**Anti-Litigation Charm**: JKR owns it all; I play for my non-profit amusement.

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_**Amazing**_

by Silver Birch

_Chapter Two: Questions_

"Why'd you do that, Potter?" Draco demanded.

He hadn't been able to catch the Gryffindor alone until nearly midnight. For reasons best known to Potter, he was to be found in the corridor leading to the kitchen at that time on that particular night; Draco, having finally given up the chase for the elusive Saviour of the Wizarding World, had rounded the corner and simply found him there. Potter had turned at the sound of Draco's voice, and the Slytherin could see that he was dressed in somewhat scruffy jeans and a green button-up that seemed to perfectly match his eyes.

"Do what?"

The brunet's voice was soft, mildly curious but completely devoid of anger or annoyance. He was unarmed, and despite what should have been the shock of Draco's appearance, he had made no move for his wand.

Closing the distance between them, Draco frowned slightly. Analysing his own tone, he knew his confusion had come across as belligerence. Yet the Boy Who Lived Once More had answered with scrupulous politeness. How long had that been going on?

"Get Dumbledore to award the House Cup to Slytherin." Harry opened his mouth, so Draco continued imperiously, "I saw you arguing before the Feast."

Harry sighed. "In five years, will everyone remember that I killed Voldemort?" He made a face of distaste. "With my luck, chances are excellent. On the other hand, once the same amount of time has passed, will anyone remember that you all turned your backs on your families to help defeat him? What you did was brave and noble, yet it's the kind of act that people love to forget. I was groomed to defeat Voldemort. I was guided and coddled and prodded to complete what I was born to do. But the lot of you, you were all groomed to join him, and you had the courage to turn away from that destiny even if it meant losing your friends and family in the process. Yet you're liable to be ostracized by the Light and the Dark. I hoped that today would help remind people of your sacrifice."

These were all thoughts that Draco had contemplated numerous times. To hear them come out of the mouth of the Gryffindor Golden Boy, however, was disconcerting.

"What are you trying to say, Potter?" he asked suspiciously.

Harry half-smiled. "I'm trying to say that I think you're amazing, Draco Malfoy."

An aristocratic eyebrow lifted. He was pleased in spite of himself, pleased in spite of his Slytherin side screaming warnings of caution. "Amazing?" There was more warmth in his voice than he should have allowed, so he tried to temper it with a specific and assessing question: "Amazing like Order of Merlin First Class?"

There, he congratulated himself, that was rather Slytherin.

Harry laughed, his face relaxing and the corner of his eyes crinkling. It hadn't been the reaction Draco had intended, but the pleasing sound warmed him to his toes.

"That, too," the Gryffindor conceded cordially.

"Then how did you mean it?" Draco pursued, wanting answers.

The messy-haired boy shrugged, a delicate pink washing up his cheeks as he admitted with evident self-consciousness, "Amazing like I want to snog you silly."

The eyebrow rose higher and his incredulity manifest as superciliousness:"_You_ want to kiss _me_?"

"Desperately." The response was surprisingly quick and earnest-sounding. Harry smiled sadly. "But I've had quite a while to prepare myself for rejection. Be happy, Draco Malfoy. You deserve it."

Harry turned and continued down the corridor, away from the Slytherin. Draco thought furiously. Had the Weasel been involved, it would obviously have been a set-up. Hell, had _he_ been involved, it would have been as well, because Slytherins simply didn't make the first move in emotional situations like this one. But Potter wasn't really a set-up sort of bloke, was he? And he had positively _oozed_ sincerity. Given his behaviour towards Draco and the Slytherins recently, why play such a trick now? What purpose could it possibly serve at this juncture, when term was at an end? If, then, Harry was really in earnest…. Draco made a split-second decision.

"You know, Potter," he drawled after the retreating figure, "for someone claiming to be desperate, you didn't really make much of an effort."

He watched the dark-haired boy freeze in his tracks before pivoting ever so slowly. Harry stared at him for a long moment, jade eyes locked on Draco's grey ones. Without breaking eye contact, the Gryffindor retraced his steps. He only stopped once they were standing mere inches apart, closer than they had ever been without being about to fight. Harry reached out and ever so gently cupped Draco's face with his hands, his thumbs brushing along Draco's jawline.

Draco was powerless to prevent his reaction, his breath hitching noticeably, blood thrumming in his veins so loudly that surely Harry could hear it. The brunet leaned in closer still and finally, finally, his lips slanted across Draco's, warm and soft and firm. Before Draco had even considered the matter, he found that he was kissing the Gryffindor back, tilting his head so they fit together better, twining his arms around Harry's neck and pulling their bodies flush against one another. Harry's tongue brushed across Draco's lower lip and Draco immediately allowed the Gryffindor access. Harry's tongue stroked the roof of his mouth, his teeth, duelled with his tongue. Draco let out a low moan that he distantly recognized as sounding extremely needy, but that didn't seem to matter so much anymore.

When the necessity of breathing forced them apart, they stood there, breathing heavily, neither letting go of the other. And then Harry smiled, and the smile in the Great Hall had nothing on this smile. It was a little shy, but breathtakingly happy, the green eyes lit up with joy, and it was a smile all for Draco. Draco found himself smiling back.

"I think you're amazing, too," Draco admitted softly.

Harry's smile grew, and he leaned in to kiss Draco again.

_finite incantatem_


End file.
